


dripping

by YouAreMyDesign



Series: baby girl [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abigail Hobbs Lives, Abigail Hobbs is a Cannibal, Alcohol, Blow Jobs, Choking, Come Eating, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dark Will Graham, Dirty Talk, Dom Will Graham, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/M, Hair-pulling, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Not Underage, Polyamory, Scars, Teasing, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, Will Graham Knows, Will Graham is a Cannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 07:36:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18069272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign
Summary: They both look wrecked beyond belief, and Will smiles, pleased and proud to have made that happen.





	dripping

Will is drunk, or at least well on his way to it. He likes being drunk – it brings with it a weightlessness that he seldom gets everywhere else. It softens his teeth, makes it easier to smile, and calms the lingering aches in his shoulders that are constant. Even Hannibal's presence, where he sits lit only by a single lamp, reading his book, doesn't do anything to make his hackles rise – and Hannibal is very good at getting under Will's skin, but alcohol is like armor to him now, and makes him stronger, makes him more self-assured.

He looks up as a hand trails through his hair, and smiles as Abigail comes into view. She moves past him and his eyes trail over her, her sleek hair long enough to touch her waist now, her pale shoulders exposed by one of Will's sweaters, which absolutely swamps her. Her thighs, soft and smooth, bared beneath the hem.

He catches her arm and brings her to a halt. "Hey," he murmurs, and she smiles at him, her eyes dark, a flush on her cheeks that darkens when Will's gaze rakes down her again, brazen and wanting. She likes how Will sounds when he's been drinking – likes the rasp, the drawl he kept beaten back for the sake of his work coming out at the taste of whiskey. "Hey, baby girl, come sit with me a while."

Her smile widens, showing teeth, and she turns with a demure tilt of her head, biting her lower lip as she climbs into his lap. Will is lying down on the couch, sprawled cavalier and careless, and he sighs as her dainty body fits comfortably over his hips, her thighs spreading out and causing her sweater to ride up so Will can see a tiny flash of her red underwear.

He flattens his hands on her thighs, grinning off-kilter and wide as she shivers, pupils growing to overtake her pale irises, her blush darkening further. She's so lovely to look at, slim and beautiful, and when she blushes it hides her freckles and makes her look like some sweet nymph-like creature.

He lifts his chin, drags a thumb inward until he feels the tense, small bulge of tendon, the little jut of her pelvis covered in soft satin. Presses, testing, and she shivers, lips parting and eyelids lowering as he drags his thumb between her legs.

"Mm." She's wet, warm to the touch, her underwear damp as Will presses inward, feels her soft flesh give and yield to him. His stomach tenses, cock hardening under her weight, and she sighs, lightly touching his chest as her hips give a little roll, seeking more. "You been playin' with yourself, haven't you, baby?"

She shakes her head, gives a little gasp as Will curls his thumb beneath the fabric, tugging it just enough to one side to expose her. He lifts a brow. "You sure about that?" he purrs, and growls as his thumb is immediately coated in her slick. He flattens it, sweeps over her entrance, through her soft, pinked flesh, until he touches the bottom of her swollen clit, then back again. "You're awful wet, sweetheart. Bet even daddy can smell it."

Her eyes darken further, but neither of them look Hannibal's way. It's part of the game. Will's grin widens, he lowers his lashes and tilts his head, knowing that even though Hannibal is resolutely not looking up from his book, he is terribly aware of them.

He puts his other hand on her bared thigh, keeping her still as he presses in with his thumb, upper lip twitching up as he feels how wet and soft and warm she is on the inside. Tight, too, always so tight, no matter how many times he makes her come.

"You should ask him," he growls, as her eyes flutter closed and she tips her head back, grinding down against his hand and his hardening cock through his clothes. "Go on, baby, ask him if he can smell you."

Abigail whines, blushing darkly, but smiles. She looks only at Will when she whispers, "Can you, daddy?" Will lifts his chin, lifts a brow. She shivers. "I'm really wet. Can you smell it?"

Hannibal doesn't answer, but his knuckles are white around his book.

Will grins up at her, and rewards her by cupping his hand, thumb dragging with a blunt nail up to tease at her clit as he pushes two fingers into her, curling immediately in the little 'Come here' motion she likes. His knuckles are soaked immediately, palm slick, and her jaw slackens, lips parting around a sweet moan, nails digging into his chest through his shirt.

Will hums, unbothered by Hannibal's lack of verbal answer. His non-response is response enough for him. "Fuck," he growls, as she clamps down around his fingers deliberately, shivering, her thighs tightening and trying to pull together. "Sweet girl. You like that?"

She nods, pressing her lips together, nostrils flaring as she breathes out harshly. Her eyes open to slits, all-black now, and she gasps as Will rubs her clit, thumb slick and stroking over it in long, dragging motions to match his fingers inside her. This time, when she clenches, it's wholly instinctual.

She stares at him, breathing hard, sweat making the little wisps of hair around her temples and neck curl and flatten. Will pushes in with a third finger, growling when she moans, loudly, rutting her hips against his hand. They've done this enough times that he knows her tells, knows when she's close.

He smiles at her, pets her trembling thigh and pushes at the hem of his sweatshirt, revealing her pale, smooth stomach sinking in, the jut of her hipbones beneath her underwear. He curls his fingers in it, tugs until it rides low and bunches around his other wrist.

"Come on, baby," he murmurs, using his new handhold to guide her into a slow, grinding rhythm, to match his thumb and his fingers. She gasps, whining, her eyes crinkling at the corners and a fine crease forming between her eyebrows. "That's it. Good girl. Let daddy see how good it feels."

She comes with a whimper, tugging on his shirt as he touches her through it. He gentles his thumb, presses deep with his fingers so he can feel how she clamps and shivers around him, like she wants to pull him in deeper. Her body shakes in a series of weak spasms and she moans, weakly, gushing slick as he fingers her, coaxing more out.

Her eyes open, no blue left in them, and Will smiles at her, dragging his fingers out slowly, and lifts them to his mouth to taste. She watches him do it, blushing deeply, her chest heaving as she recovers and watches ravenously as Will licks his fingers clean.

He hums, pleased – she's easily the best woman he's ever tasted. "It's a shame daddy's all the way over there," he purrs, flattening his hands to her hips and grinding between her trembling, soft thighs. "I bet he'd love to eat you all up, darlin'."

She grins at him, stifling a girlish laugh, and lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "His loss."

"Mm." Will takes her in his arms, rolls her to her back on the couch, and settles with all his weight between her legs. She likes big men, likes feeling small and corralled beneath them. She and Will have that in common.

He kisses her – sweet at first, no more than a press of lips that cling warmly, and then her lips part and he shares her taste, cupping her face with his sticky hand and able to feel the light sheen of sweat coating her skin.

He pulls back with another wide, off-kilter smile. "More for me," he growls.

She gasps, eyes wide as he pushes at the sweatshirt, the thing loose and large enough to easily take off of her, baring her almost completely. He kisses her neck, first – they have this sensitive place in common, too, and he loves how much he trusts their mouths along her scar. She shivers, sliding her fingers into his hair.

Next, her collarbone, jutting and strong, no give to it when he parts his lips and bites down. She arches with a wanton moan, eyes closing, and Will moves on to one of her breasts. Cups it, the perfect size to fit in his palm, and he lowers his mouth to her nipple, teasing it with his tongue until it hardens. He sucks it into his mouth, growling when she shivers and bites her lower lip in answer. Her thighs spread and lift, wrapping around his hips, and he releases her with an obscene sound, grinning when she moans at the loss.

He leans over her, kisses her again, and wraps a hand in her hair. Tugs her, up, and she moans and clings to his shoulders, pawing at his shirt and tugging it up, so he has to end the kiss with a laugh, ducking his head so she can pull it over and off him, tossing it to the ground.

She rakes her nails over his neck, causing him to shiver and snarl against her mouth, and he resumes his course, pushing her thighs wide apart and exposing where she's slick and open, fringed with red satin. He wraps his fingers in the fabric and tugs it down her thighs, over her knees, and she pulls her legs together to help him kick them off.

"Good girl," he purrs, and rewards her with another brush of fingers, gently, over her sensitive clit. She shivers, biting her lower lip, gazing up at him with wide eyes. He leans over her again, kisses her deeply, feeling her shiver and shake beneath him, pawing at his chest. Her legs try and wrap around him, and he pulls back with a shake of his head. "Ah, no."

He pushes at her thighs, making her spread obscenely wide, until one heel hooks over the back of the couch, the other on the floor. Her blush has spread down to her chest, now.

Will kneels back, grinning, making sure Hannibal can see. "Let daddy get a nice look at you," he says, and finally looks over at Hannibal, finds him staring determinedly at his book. But Will is no fool – he knows Hannibal watches, knows the light pink staining his cheeks has nothing to do with the heat in the room. "Isn't she pretty, daddy?"

Hannibal's lips press together.

Will's smile widens, sharpens, and he sinks two fingers into her without warning, causing her to arch up with a frantic, high-pitched cry.

Hannibal slams his book closed with an audible 'snap'.

" _Fuck_ , baby," Will murmurs, like he hadn't noticed. He pierces her deeply, watches her chest heave and her stomach sink in, thighs quivering but remaining where Will put them. He thumbs over the stretched tendons, exposed and pale, soft to the touch and wet as the rest of her. " _God_ , you're fuckin' tight, darlin'. Feels like you were made just for me."

She whines, arching against his touch, one of her hands teasing at a nipple, the other wrapped tight around Will's wrist, urging him deeper.

Will smiles, and leans down, sucking her neglected nipple into his mouth as he fucks her – slow, deep, curling where she's rough and so wet. She spasms around him, whining faint and high, her lips swollen now from biting them, from being kissed. The soft flesh between her legs is a deep, rosy pink, blushing and sensitive.

Will's mouth waters, and he pulls back from her. Slides to his knees at the very end of the couch and uses his fingers to lift her hips, and plants a single, loud suck-kiss over her clit. She gasps, head tilting back, lashes fluttering, and he curls his tongue around it and sucks mercilessly, delighted at every spasm and every weak moan he elicits from her tortured lungs.

He keeps going, until he feels her start to bear down in earnest, until she is begging with weak cries and desperate gasps. He pulls his fingers out and pushes his sweatpants down to his knees, shivering at the wash of warm air over his cock as it's exposed.

He slicks his cock with her, grabs her hips to keep her still, and lifts her onto his thighs. She is practically sobbing, denied her second orgasm, staring up at Will like he might be God incarnate for how much she wants him.

He smiles at her, loving, affectionate, and pushes forward until his cock sinks between her thighs, finds her slick, open hole and presses. He slides his thumb over her clit, again, easing her back to her orgasm so that as he pushes inside her, she fights him, bearing down so tightly, swollen flesh forced to give ground.

"That's it, darlin'," he snarls, showing her his teeth. She shows him her own in return. "Let me in, that's it, good girl."

She wraps her legs around him, gripping him tightly, her nails flying to his shoulders and digging in. She comes more violently when he's inside her, arching up in a savage bow, a borderline shriek stuck behind her teeth as Will eases himself all the way inside her. Until his hips press to the bottom of her thighs, until he feels the blunt base of her cervix against the head of his cock.

She spasms around him, whimpering, and he moves his thumb from her, licking it clean before he prowls over her again, folding her in half. She's easy to move, it's easy to hook her knees over his elbows, to flatten her and fuck deep into her as she whimpers and gasps, eyes glazed and half-lidded, lips parted around another weak moan.

Will doesn't let her rest – he is merciless in his own way, different than her and Hannibal's savage appetites. He pulls back, braced on the armrest of the couch, knees in the cushions, hands spread wide over the backs of her thighs, and sinks in quickly, forcing her to yield, to part for him.

He kisses her, swallowing her moan as he fucks her, hard enough that the couch creaks and her breaths devolve into whimpers. She's sweating, flushed, a perfect tapestry of lust and satisfaction, and Will is viscerally, primally proud to be the one to make her smile like that.

Her head turns, showing her neck, and Will falls against her with a snarl, fucking her roughly. She lets out another breathless laugh, curling a hand in his hair. "Daddy's watching," she whispers, biting the arch of his ear.

Will huffs a laugh. "Daddy likes watching," he replies with a growl. He lifts his head, turns to see that, indeed, Hannibal is watching them, his eyes raking greedily over both Abigail and Will in equal measure. His lips are parted, his eyes black and shining in the low light. Will grins at him, flattens a hand over Abigail's forehead and tilts her head back, makes sure Hannibal holds his gaze as he lowers his mouth and sucks a mark to her neck, over the white, old scar.

Hannibal's eyes darken further, and his jaw clenches.

Will smiles. "I think he's jealous, baby girl," he murmurs playfully against her neck. She turns to look at him, grinning, running her fingers through his hair and gripping tight as he starts to slow, fucking in with rolling, deep thrusts, butting against the place where she's hard and sore. It will ache, but she likes it when it aches, after.

"I wonder which of us he's more jealous of," she replies with a bright smile.

Will's brows rise. Now _there's_ a question.

"Maybe we should reward him," he says, and looks to Hannibal again, challenging. Hannibal's chin lifts, his book set on the arm of his chair, abandoned, his hands pressed flat and wide over his thighs. The light of his lamp makes the shadows and dips of him starker, stern, monstrous, but it can't hide the way he looks at them, the want apparent, barely contained beneath his clothes and his human veneer. "He's been so good, waiting for us to invite him over."

Abigail hums, lashes low, and lifts her head when Will kisses her, cupping her skull.

"Would you let him fuck you, if he asked real nicely?" Will whispers, kissing the words to her jaw.

She shivers, and lets out a weak sound.

"Daddy's bigger than me, baby," he says, mouth gone dry at the memory – for he and Hannibal have shared many nights together, and sleep in the same bed when Abigail does not call Will to hers. "But he's real good, I promise." He slows, cock twitching as he thinks about it – thinks, in equal measure, of how it feels when Hannibal puts him on his hands and knees and fucks him until he screams; thinks of the weight of Hannibal piercing his throat; imagines how Abigail would look, pinned under him, how Hannibal would move against her, if he might snarl and bite as he does so viciously with Will.

No, he decides. Hannibal would be gentle with her. He would treat her with grace and affection. The love he holds for Abigail and the love he holds for Will are as different as whiskey and wine; still potent, still strong, but one is undeniably sweeter.

She bites her lower lip, wincing as Will thrusts all the way into her again. Her heels dig into his back, her brow creasing in a little worried line – for all her teasing, she's undoubtedly sore. Will hums, nuzzling her neck, kissing lightly at the little pink mark he left behind, and he rubs his hands down her flanks, gripping her slim hips.

"Some other time, maybe," he murmurs, and she nods, relaxing a little. He smiles, glad to see the little flicker of anxiety fade, and lifts his eyes to meet Hannibal's, sees him nod, sees him settle. It was one of the rules, the things they talked about before this all started – Abigail's an adult, she can make her own decisions, but those decisions will be entirely hers, with no pressure from either of them.

He kisses her again, rubbing gently between her legs as he rolls his hips, seeking to reward her for being so sweet, so good to him. He presses praise to her sweaty neck, shudders as she starts to clamp down around him, thighs shaking and squeezing tight. _Fuck_ , he loves it when she comes on his cock, squeezing him so tightly he has no choice but to follow soon after.

She comes with a ragged moan, glazed eyes blinking up at him, and she rears up and kisses him as he goes still. He threads a hand through her hair, other arm around her back, flattening over her spine, and he lifts her into his lap and pushes her against the back of the couch. Sinks in, deep, as she trembles and clings to him, and comes with a snarl, flooding her. It leaks out around him almost immediately, his cock twitching as he fills her up, the scent of sex exploding with their abrupt change in positions. He grits his teeth, holding her tightly and working her down onto his cock in little thrusts as she shivers and sighs, kissing lightly at his neck.

When he's finished, Will collapses to his heels, her weight the only thing that keeps him on the couch. He lays her down on her back, smiling as she grins up at him, her face soft with affection as she drags her knuckles over his flushed cheeks, her fingers through his hair, petting him as he shivers and works himself through the comedown.

It is then, with a small sound of creaking leather, that Hannibal rises.

Will closes his eyes, lifts his head as his hair is taken from Abigail, wrapped in a strong hand, and Hannibal leans down and kisses him, bites his bruised lower lip to get them to part, and licks the lingering taste of Abigail from Will's tongue. Will sighs, lax and sated, content to let Hannibal use him, now, as he sees fit.

He lets Will go, and Abigail sits up, using Will's shoulder as a brace so that she can receive a kiss of her own. Hannibal is much gentler with her, cupping her face and letting her mouth at his lower lip, both of them keeping their teeth sheathed.

Will pushes back, giving her room to breathe, and collapses against the opposite armrest, his head swimming and his fingers giving little phantom twitches of oversensitivity. The couch bears a huge stain under him, where her hips were, and he grins, dragging his fingers feather-light around his cock, gathering her slick and his come on them.

He clears his throat, drawing Hannibal's attention, and holds out his hand in offering.

"Come here," he commands.

Hannibal eyes flash, and he moves from Abigail as though leashed, takes Will's wrist in a grip that's a shade too tight. Will lifts his chin, shows his teeth, and clenches his fingers into a fist, denying him.

"No, daddy," he purrs, and smiles when Hannibal snarls. "Get on your knees."

Hannibal smiles, like this was his plan all along. Honestly, Will wouldn't put it past him – he buys the expensive whiskey, the highest proofs, knowing how Will gets when he's been drinking. He slides to his knees in a graceful motion in front of the couch and Will hums, low-lidded, and wraps his dirty hand in Hannibal's hair, mussing it from the careful, controlled style it had been in all day.

Hannibal breathes out, the only sign of his displeasure, but he is lax and pliant as Will grins at him, sits upright, spreads his knees, and pulls Hannibal's mouth to his cock. Hannibal's lips part immediately, sucking down oversensitive flesh, and Will grits his teeth, tips his head back and lets out a curse to the ceiling.

" _Fuck_." He slouches, forcing more of his softening cock into Hannibal's mouth, so that Hannibal is sucking all of him down, his nose buried in Will's pubic hair, likely able to taste and smell both of them strongly enough to have it weigh down his lungs and stomach. He tightens his fist in Hannibal's hair, holds him still as he thrusts, a small trickle leaking from his slit as he's given another sharp aftershock. Hannibal's mouth bruises easily, his lips are red and look tender, and Will yanks him off with another snarl, pulls him into a kiss that tastes of Abigail and growls when, in answer, Hannibal digs his nails into Will's hips and tries to draw blood.

He shivers, pawing weakly at Hannibal's neck, instinctively wanting to fight blood with blood, pain with pain. He has a hand around Hannibal's throat before he becomes aware of Abigail, at their sides, and her small, gentle hand presses over Will's, and he instinctively slackens his grip.

He turns to her, and she kisses him, sweet and warm and stinking of him. She bites her lower lip when they part, and Will exhales heavily, nuzzling her sweaty hair.

She reaches out, touches Hannibal's flushed cheek, and her eyes dip down to Hannibal's lap, to his spread thighs and obvious arousal tenting his suit pants. Her blush darkens, if that's possible, staining her stomach a pretty pink, every inch of her is flushed and warmed by Will.

"Daddy," she says sweetly.

Hannibal smiles at her, and releases Will. "Yes, darling?"

She presses her lips together, sliding both hands between her tightly-pressed thighs, the picture of innocence. An act, Will is sure, but just because it's an act doesn't mean it's not effective, and she's very, very good at playing the lure. "Do you think…?" She swallows, darts her eyes to Will, then back. "If we helped you, would you be able to come in me without going too deep?"

Hannibal's nostrils flare, and what little is left of his iris is swallowed by pupil. His eyes drop to where she's coyly touching herself, just a little patch of hair visible between her fingers. She tilts her head, licks her lips, and Will looks to Hannibal, finds him staring ravenously.

He swallows, and nods. "For you, darling, anything."

She smiles, and Will surges to his feet, pulling Hannibal upright and turning him. "Sit," he commands, and Hannibal obeys. If Abigail wants this, she'll get what she wants, but Will isn't going to let the reins slacken now. He lifts his chin and pulls his sweatpants back up until they sit low-slung on his hips. Hannibal's eyes drop to the motion, his lips parting to reveal a slip of his tongue, and he swallows.

Will holds a hand out to Abigail, smiles at her as she stands on shaking legs. Her thighs are slim, and there's an obscene, milky shine between them as she goes to Will. Will embraces her, kisses her, and turns her so that Hannibal cannot see her behind his body.

Her tucks her hair behind her ears and smiles. "Sit," he tells her, nodding to the table behind her. Hannibal will hate the stain she leaves behind on the glass surface. She grins, like she knows the trick Will is playing too, and obeys, crossing her legs in a demure posture.

Will turns around again, fixes Hannibal with a greedy, fanged smile. Hannibal's chin lifts and Will goes to him, nudging his knees apart with his own, and crouches down, his hands on Hannibal's thighs, spread wide.

"You know what I want."

Hannibal smiles, smug and fine, and deftly undoes the button and zip of his suit pants, pulling the halves apart. His hips lift so he can work them down, exposing his dark underwear, stained around the head of his cock. Hannibal leaks, and Will's mouth waters, anticipating the taste.

He pulls himself out through the hole at the front of his underwear, and Will snarls. It's almost bitchy – Hannibal knows how much Will likes touching him, petting him, when he does this. But fair's fair. Hannibal hasn't been allowed to participate all night.

And this is rich enough reward.

He leans in, purring when Hannibal holds himself erect for Will, and Will licks, thick and warm, over the head of his cock, dipping into the slit to taste his precum. It's salty, a little bitter, a fine thing to taste after Abigail's sweetness. Hannibal shudders beneath him, thighs tense, and he wraps a hand in Will's hair, tugging harshly.

Will moans, parts his lips, and lets Hannibal force him down onto his cock, until he chokes, throat spasming, until he has to let Hannibal deeper, until it feels like Hannibal is clogging the top of his lungs. He growls, mouth flooding with saliva, breath hitching, gagging, again, and then Hannibal lets him rise, just for a moment, before he forces Will down again.

Behind him, Abigail makes a soft sound of concern.

Hannibal smiles, holding Will still by his hair, as Will's shoulders tighten and roll and his nostrils flare. "Don't worry, darling," he murmurs. "He likes it when I use him like this."

And Will does. He likes how much rougher Hannibal is with him than with her. He likes how much it hurts after. Even likes the panic-trigger in his brain when he can't breathe around Hannibal's cock, or when Hannibal chokes him, robbing him of air. He whines, weakly, and Hannibal lets him pull back with a ragged gasp, coughing and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Come now, Will," Hannibal purrs. "Show her how much you like it."

Will glares at him, but only briefly. Shows his teeth and wraps a hand around the base of Hannibal's cock, parts his jaws wide and soaks Hannibal with his saliva. Hannibal shivers, jaw clenching, eyes at half-mast as Will's cheeks hollow and he sucks as hard as he can, until his jaw starts to ache.

"Good boy," Hannibal murmurs, his hand gentling now, letting Will set his own pace as he gets Hannibal wet enough for Abigail. If Will hadn't just come, he'd be hard again, rutting against Hannibal's leg. Even now his stomach burns with impotent arousal, his head is warm and fuzzy with alcohol and orgasm. He moans, taking Hannibal all the way again, and pulls back when he feels Hannibal go tense.

He meets his eyes, and they share another understanding look. Will rises, and turns, and pulls Abigail to her feet.

"Turn for me, baby, yeah, just like that," he says, his voice raspy, throat wrecked from abuse. She shivers at the sound of it, and leans up to her toes to kiss him as he pushes her back. Her hands fall to Hannibal's thighs, bracing herself, and Will kneels down again, smiling in encouragement. They lift her together, until she's sitting on Hannibal's clothed stomach, and his cock ruts between her thighs, large enough that it passes her navel.

She looks down with wide eyes, and swallows.

"You can control the depth, like this," Will tells her, gently coaxing her to push her thighs together and place her toes on the floor between his knees. He leans up, kisses her, and wraps a hand around Hannibal's cock.

She shivers, lifting up, and whines weakly as Will slides his fingers into her, stretching her out, and guides the head of Hannibal's cock inside her. He's thick, Will knows it hurts even for him, still, and she gasps, head tilted back, eyes closing as Hannibal holds her hips steady, helping her remain upright. Will lets her go, brushing his thumb over her clit as she sinks down, one inch, then two, and then stops, shaking finely.

"Oh, sweet girl," he murmurs, kissing her again. Her thighs part just enough to give his hand room, and he pets her and kisses her as her thighs tremble and tense. "You think you can take more?"

She gasps, and shakes her head.

Will smiles. "Alright. You're doing so well. Lean back, let daddy hold you while I help him come."

She nods, her eyes mere slits as Hannibal gathers her in his arms, helping her brace against his chest until her head sits on the back of the couch and he can hook his chin over her shoulder. They slouch, so he's in no danger of sinking too deeply, and Will gasps, eyes wide as he's allowed a view. Hannibal's cock is dark, a deep blush-red, and the place where they're joined is shining with her slick and Will's come. It's obscene, beautifully debauched, seeing her delicate flesh parted around him.

Will's mouth waters, and he snarls, cupping her thighs to keep her in place, and leans down, licking a broad stripe from the base of Hannibal's cock, up and through her flesh, over her clit. She whines, her hands flying to his hair, trying to get him to stay at her clit and he smiles, obeying; he lets saliva pool from his mouth, dripping down his chin, and one hand strokes Hannibal's cock while he licks over her clit, again, again, until her cries are more pleasure than discomfort.

He lifts his eyes, sees Hannibal's face a mask of bliss, his eyelids heavy, his jaw slack. He smiles. "Doesn't she feel so good, daddy?" he murmurs. Hannibal's eyes open, burning into Will, and he licks his lips and turns his head to kiss her hair. Will wets the fingers of his free hand, trusting Hannibal to keep her in place, and rubs broad, gentle circles around her clit, knowing that even if it feels good, she's undoubtedly sore. He knows immediately when she bears down, the crease in her brow and the way Hannibal gasps more than enough for him to know. "I think I can make her come on your cock. Would you like that?"

Hannibal snarls, causing her to shiver, and Will leans in, licks over her clit, down to where they're joined as his fingers take over again. Feels, in his hand, Hannibal's cock pulse and thicken. He's close, the vein on the underside standing out in stark relief from the shadows in the room.

"You don't get to come until she does," he growls in warning. Hannibal groans, tipping his head back, and she sinks down just another half-inch, gasping, eyes flying open as her body convulses. Will grins, widely, and sucks her clit into his mouth, tonguing the underside while his teeth edge the tip. She cries out, sobbing, overstimulated, gripping his hair tightly as she comes, and the press of her forces Hannibal out, just a little, back to where he was. But he's slick with her now, and Will dives in, greedily lapping at the gush of new slick as it leaks from her. Shivers, as he realizes Hannibal has plugged her so thoroughly that he doesn't get nearly as much as he's used to.

"Oh _God_ , fuck, _fuck_ ," Abigail cries, letting go of Will with one hand and fisting Hannibal's clothed arm with it, her knuckles white. She turns her head, meets his eyes. "Please, daddy. Come in me."

Hannibal shudders, his thighs flexing, hips rolling up and Will is quick to lift her, making sure he doesn't sink in too deeply. He holds her still as Hannibal's hips jerk, his jaw clenches, and he squeezes her tightly as he fills her.

The force of his orgasm pushes him out, seed spilling thickly from her, coating her thighs, Hannibal's stomach, the underside of Will's jaw. He doesn't wait – leans in, greedy and ravenous, and catches the excess with his tongue, eagerly swallowing Hannibal's come and her slick. He is careful to avoid her clit, gathers Hannibal's come from his chin and her thighs and licks them both clean. His tongue slides into her, making her moan as he works out what he can, starving for as much as he can get.

Hannibal hisses, as Will sucks him into his mouth, moaning at the taste of all three of them coating his skin. Abigail trembles, weak, sagging on Hannibal's chest and unable to move, so Hannibal can't push Will off of him and Will takes cruel advantage, sucking Hannibal's cock as he twitches and spills his last, until Hannibal lets out a soft, warning snarl.

He pulls back, grinning widely, and wipes his chin. He stands, gathering Abigail in his arms, and places her next to Hannibal on the couch, gathering her sweatshirt and handing it to her so she doesn't get cold.

She takes it, shrugging it on with a smile, panting heavily. They both look wrecked beyond belief, and Will smiles, pleased and proud to have made that happen.

He takes the third seat, on Abigail's other side, and pulls her in for a kiss. "Beautiful," he breathes, and hears Hannibal give a soft, tired exhale in agreement. She smiles at him, happily burrowing into his arms, and Will hoists her up, settles her in his lap, and leans over so he can steal a kiss from Hannibal's lax, bruised mouth. "Both of you."

Hannibal's eyes shine with pleasure, and he smiles, petting through Will's sweat-damp hair. "And you are breathtaking, my love," he murmurs, hoarse and sated. Will grins, and worms his way under Hannibal's arm, cheek on his shoulder as Hannibal tucks his cock back in, but doesn't bother correcting his clothes beyond that.

They remain together, curled up and catching their breath for a time, before Abigail stirs, and rises. She gathers her underwear and Will's shirt, balls them up under her arm, and goes to turn off the lamp.

"I'm going to bed," she announces, and fixes them both with a raised brow; an expression Will suspects she picked up from him. "Would either of you like to join me?"

Will smiles, and rises. He takes her offered hand, and they both look to Hannibal. He smiles at both of them, soft with adoration, and pushes himself to his feet, takes her other hand, and she grins, lifts to her toes to kiss Will, first, then Hannibal, and leads them both to bed.


End file.
